Some hours later, a legion-grade interstellar fleet appeared, in mighty and imposing array, within this star-region. One could see that the paint-emblems on these warships' hulls all bore very plain traces of having been temporarily deleted — done in evident haste. And what's more, the vast bulk of them were ship types in service with the Empire's military.
"Reporting, Commander — we've reached the designated area!" Within this fleet's flagship bridge, though, one could see a crowd of soldiers dressed in Empire-military uniform. And the officer among them addressed as Commander had, upon his shoulder, three glittering golden stars, no less.
"Make ready for combat," this three-star Lieutenant General said in earnest.
He'd received the Third Prince's order, and had at the first moment led his fleet over to lend support. He knew the mission he was carrying out this time was the distress signal that band of slavers had sent out. He'd long known of that band of slavers' doings — for he was precisely one of the middlemen between that band of slavers and His Highness the prince. Of the interstellar warships those slavers used, a portion had been extracted, by him under some artful pretext, from the establishment of the Empire's military fleet and allocated to these slavers. That boss, the Big-Eye King, had even met him in person, and that fellow had been quite adept at working a situation; at their first meeting he'd readied 10 female slaves for him, along with several hundred thousand star coins of "gift-money."
As the Prince Faction's money tree in the gray zone, upon receiving the distress signal, he naturally had to come and investigate the thing clearly. Though this slaver operated in the gray zone, anyone with sense knew well that the one propping them up behind the scenes was the Prince Faction. To dare lay hands on the Prince Faction's money tree — just who was it that was so ignorant of what was good for them?
"Report — we've found the starport, and traces of interstellar warships having done battle. For the moment we've found no other warships." An adjutant reported from the side.
The three-star Lieutenant General cast an eye over the display window before him; one could see several battlefield relics full of interstellar-warship wreckage — all of it indicating that a fierce battle had been fought here.
"By our detection of the state of the cosmic-element fluctuations here, the battle ought to have ended about three hours ago." The adjutant reported another important piece of news.
Three hours ago?
He'd received the distress signal roughly eight hours ago. Which was to say, the enemy fleet that had attacked here had traded fire for under five hours. Though that pack of slavers' fleet wasn't strong in strength, it had, for all that, 3,000 warships — 30 T3 warships among them. To do this in so brief a span of time, the attackers' fleet combat power must be no ordinary thing.
The three-star Lieutenant General looked at the wound-riddled starport in the display: the starport's exterior was covered everywhere in the traces of bombardment and attack, and one could still see the broken interstellar warships among it. The scene of several hundred warships jammed up within the channels — from it, he could already picture in his mind the scenes of that engagement as it had once been.
"Be careful; dispatch interstellar recon craft to have a look at the starport's situation." The three-star Lieutenant General said prudently.
Before long, some dozens of interstellar recon craft began to close in on the starport. Through the imagery synced over from the cameras on the recon craft, one could see the starport's situation more clearly still.
Suddenly the three-star Lieutenant General pointed at the most conspicuous emblem-position of the starport. "Enlarge this for me, quickly!"
That emblem was the one that stood for this band of slavers. And just now, this emblem, besides being ruined past recognition, had upon it three "black dots" that could be seen. After enlarging and enlarging again, the features of these three "black dots" at last came clear.
Plain to see, they were three corpses!
From left to right, they were, respectively: the Big-Eye King, Skinny Monkey, and Scarface. Save that Skinny Monkey's manner of death was somewhat the better, the manners in which the other two had died were exceedingly wretched — Scarface above all, of whom one could see that, before death, he'd suffered enormous torment!
This sight made the three-star Lieutenant General's mood plunge to the very bottom in an instant. The deaths of these three meant that the slaver organization the Prince Faction had propped up was destroyed. Though, leaning on the Prince Faction's capabilities, an organization of this kind could still be propped up anew — the time, and the manpower, materials, and money invested from first to last would all bring the Prince Faction an enormous added loss.
"Warning! Warning! Warning! A high-energy explosion reaction detected within the starport; recon craft, withdraw immediately! Withdraw immediately!" a crew member suddenly cried out.
The three-star Lieutenant General looked, startled, at the starport before him. One could see dozens of points within the starport glowing red, and thereupon came enormous explosions — the explosions swallowing up outright some of the interstellar recon craft that had closed in to scout and hadn't yet had time to withdraw.
"Recon No.3 has lost contact."
"Recon No.5 has lost contact."
"Recon No.8 has lost contact."
The three-star Lieutenant General stared at the exploding starport before him. If before this the starport had seemed like a piece of land that had suffered ravaging, now it had already become a heap of space garbage.
"This pack of wretches!" The hatred rose up in the three-star Lieutenant General's heart. Killing that pack of slavers would have been one thing — at worst they'd cultivate a new lot — but now they'd even gone and destroyed the starport for them. Mind you, to build up a base of this kind, how much time would the Prince Faction need to prepare? From first to last, without a year or two, it simply couldn't be restored to how it had been before. And within that year or two, the slave-trade channels they'd originally had might very well be snatched away by others. So to truly restore it would take at least three years!
"Should the two Highnesses learn of the news from here…" The three-star Lieutenant General heaved a long sigh, hoping only that the two princes would not vent their anger on him. He at once sent back everything that had happened here, and all the various imagery captured — including the scene of the starport exploding.
Before long, the reply of the two princes came through.
"Investigate the culprit!"
Four simple characters — yet from within them, one could feel the fury of the two princes.
"Investigate, for me! Search carefully through that wreckage and rubble — you must get to the bottom of just what manner of people dared to attack here!" The three-star Lieutenant General gave the order.
After the investigation and analysis that followed, it emerged that sensor-triggered explosive devices had been planted within the starport; the moment they sensed the fluctuation of electronic equipment appearing within a certain range around them, they would automatically detonate. The other side had known well, too, that a petty trick of this kind couldn't work any great effect upon the interstellar fleet that came in support afterward. Their aim was simply to destroy this starport right before the eyes of the reinforcements — to set off a giant fireworks display for them.
This was a provocation!
This was, beyond all doubt, a provocation!
The three-star Lieutenant General clenched his fists, all the more certain in his heart that even were he to turn this place upside down, he would investigate the attackers' identity clearly, and make them pay a grievous price.
And the chief culprit of it all was, just then, on the road back to the Owl Dragon System.
Under the warp voyage, within his hibernation pod, the corner of Zhao Chen's mouth carried a trace of a smile. It seemed he was, just now, in the midst of a fine dream.